Sometimes You Feel
by bertiebert
Summary: There are times you hurt and times you laugh, times you cause pain and times you love, but there are always times that you feel. Ensemble - Ratings from K - M. Discontinued.
1. Priezzhaĭte v krovatʹ

**_Yet another odd sort of fic. It'll be made up of about 25 prompts (give or take a few) for several different pairings and prompts. They were completely random, taken from a generator, and I chose them based on my ability to write them and the ideas I had. First up is Russia/America! The title means _**come to bed **_in Russian._**

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><p><strong>Pairing:<strong> Russia x America  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> dozed off

**_Priezzhaĭte v krova_tʹ**

Ivan padded down the hall, drowsy and cold, to the living room. After spending so many years with Alfred, it was very easy for Ivan to sense when he was alone in bed or when Alfred needed something. This particular night, it happened to be both. Alfred was sprawled on the sofa, snoring softly in his sleep. The Russian just smiled, watching the light of the TV flicker over his lover's haphazard form, and crept over to him. Smoothing Alfred's messy hair back, Ivan left a soft kiss on his forehead.

"_Alushenka,_ come to bed," he murmured, smoothing his hand down Alfred's chest to rouse him.

A soft puff of breath and a snuffle were the only acknowledgements Ivan got before bright blue eyes blinked open to stare up at him. Alfred's gaze was glossy and unfocused, but he still smiled lethargically. "Sorry. I was watching a show about…albinism, I believe, and I must have fallen asleep."

"There's not need to apologize, _dorogoĭ._ And I know how sleeping on the couch ruins your back." Ivan looped an arm around Alfred's waist when he stood on unsteady feet. After turning off the television, they began the shuffling trek to their bedroom.

Leaning back against his pillows, Ivan gazed appreciatively at the American as Alfred stripped himself of his clothes. One of Ivan's much too large hockey T-shirts was slipped on before that day's trunks were discarded. Ivan was forced to swallow when Alfred bent over to rifle through his underwear drawer to retrieve a clean pair. He unconsciously spread his legs when Alfred wiggled his hips as he tugged on the blue cotton. His exhaustion was instantly forgotten as Alfred ruffled his hair, walking into the en suite bathroom.

Waiting eagerly for his lover to return, Ivan hoped Alfred wasn't too tired for a little bit of heated kissing and at least a bit of fondling. His prayers were answered when Alfred crawled into bed and immediately deposited himself in Ivan's lap. Running a hand through his hair, Alfred grinned, coy and sweet, at Ivan.

"I could see you getting all excited when I undressed. I didn't know that I could do _this_ to you just by taking off my clothes," Alfred purred, kissing Ivan as he ground his hips against Ivan's.

The Russian was very glad to find Alfred half-hard already and panting softly when Ivan pulled back to suckle on his neck. Their kisses strayed from lips to necks and collarbones as Ivan's big hands gripped Alfred's hips tightly. He rucked up the red and blue T-shirt to latch his mouth onto a pink nipple. Alfred gasped sharply, tangling his fingers in silvery hair. Clothes were shed just enough for Ivan to slide easily inside the American after quick preparation. Wrapped securely in one another's arms, the couple quickly found their natural rhythm.

When it was all said and done, Alfred was cleaned up and tucked into the warm bed. He cuddled up against Ivan's side, resting his head over the Russian's heart. Listening to it slow and level itself out was enough to put Alfred to sleep again quickly. Ivan, after a moment of marveling over Alfred's childlike innocence when he slept, settled in to sleep as well. He faintly registered Alfred's fingers tightening in his T-shirt possessively before he was drifting into the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.


	2. Pardonnez moi

_**Alright. It's been a long time coming, but it's finally here! A bit angsty to start out, with a lot of untranslated French that pretty much means the same thing, but then a happy ending. If you can't figure something out, ask me or Google it. Enjoy and review!**_

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><p><strong>Pairing:<strong> France x Canada  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> bruise marks

_**Pardonnez-moi**_

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when Matthew crawled from the bed. He left his glasses on the nightstand and stepped carefully, using the wall as a sort of guide as he shuffled his way to the bathroom. He was a bit sore, but nothing he wasn't used to after a night with Francis. The Frenchman really did know how to make Matthew feel good. The soreness was a pleasant reminder of just how great a lover Francis was and made Matthew smile at the memories of the night's activities. It was only when he was brushing his teeth that he realized what had happened. Francis stumbled into the bathroom, shivering slightly in the house's cool air, and stopped dead in his tracks. Crystal blue eyes widened before Francis rushed to Matthew and skimmed his hands across every inch of pale skin he could reach.

"_Matthieu, mon ange, Je suis tellement désolé._ Are you alright?" Francis babbled, skating his slender hands across Matthew's shoulder and down his chest.

Standing there, toothbrush halfway inside his mouth, Matthew just stared. _What was wrong?_

"'M f'ne." He mumbled before spitting in the sink. "What's wrong?"

"_Regardez_," Francis urged, turning Matthew toward the mirror.

As he leaned in closer, Matthew noticed the dark marks across his shoulders and neck. Upon further inspection, the bruises moved down his chest, sides, and legs. His hips were mottled with the purple spots, and his back sported several too, as well as scratches that stung slightly upon being touched. Violet eyes betrayed Matthew's reaction and he sucked in a shaking breath. Knowing that Francis was fretting, Matthew steadied himself to assure his lover that everything was alright. He rinsed his toothbrush and mouth with cool water, turning to allow Francis to embrace him.

"It's alright, I'm fine. It's okay," he soothed, letting his fingernails scratch the back of Francis's neck lightly.

"Let me make it up to you, _amoureux_. _S'il te pla__î__t_," Francis pleaded, cradling Matthew's face in his hands.

"Alright, _allez bien."_ Matthew allowed Francis to usher him back to the bed and grimaced as he began to feel his injuries.

"Lie down, _ma chérie_. Would you like something to drink?" Francis crooned, smoothing Matthew's hair off his forehead.

"_Oui merci,"_ Matthew replied, cupping his hand around Francis's cheek. "I love you."

Francis kissed the Canadian, stroking his thumb over Matthew's strong jaw. _"Je t'aime, trop."_

When Francis returned with a glass of water, Matthew tugged him back into bed with him. He drained half of the glass and snuggled back up against his lover. Francis's hands settled very carefully on Matthew's back, drawing comforting patterns across the usually unmarred skin. He nuzzled in for a few apologetically sweet kisses, stroking Matthew's hair.

"Please forgive me, _mon trésor,"_ Francis whispered and Matthew could just hear how it tore him apart to see Matthew's pale skin mottled with bruises he put there.

"I was never angry with you, Francis. You didn't do this on purpose, did you?" Matthew attempted to comfort his lover, placing the pad of one fingertip into the dip of Francis's collarbone.

"No, of course not. I would never intentionally cause you harm, _cher._ I did not know I had hurt you until this morning." Francis pressed his forehead to Matthew's, smiling despite himself when the Canadian brushed their noses together.

"Don't be upset, _belle._ They'll heal, and I can't stand to see you so worried," Matthew consoled, cupping his hand around Francis's neck.

The bedroom door was nudged open, and Kumajirou padded into the room. He climbed the small set of stairs at the foot of the bed and drowsily settled himself in between Francis's and Matthew's legs. They laughed, kissing softly before Matthew leaned down to haul the bear up in between their chest. He stroked soft white fur, kissing the top of Kumajirou's head despite the soft rumble of displeasure it got him.

"Stop it. I know you like it when I dote on you, Kuma. Just go back to sleep," Matthew hushed his bear, smiling contentedly when Kumajirou cuddled up against his chest.

"I suppose he's finally come around to me. It's nice not having to hold him back whenever I try to kiss you," Francis teased, his hand linking with Matthew's on Kumajirou's back.

A muted growl made Francis jerk his hand back, but Matthew just laughed. "He knows to behave himself, Francis. We've had more than a few talks. It's alright. Come on, let's try to sleep some more."

Francis smoothed a hand down Kumajirou's head hesitantly before kissing Matthew on the forehead. "Alright, just as long as I'm not mauled in my sleep."

Matthew smiled and turned onto his opposite side, sighing heavily when Francis curled around his back. Kumajirou burrowed further into the warmth of Matthew's arms and purred as he dozed off. To anyone else, they would have made the oddest picture, but they were content in one another's arms and nothing else mattered quite as much.


End file.
